Proud Regret
by Crystallized Tears
Summary: AU He lived for her, breathed for her ... he cried for her when their worlds both shattered beyond recognition. And pride had never let them fully develop.


**Proud Regret**

_Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal  
~From a headstone in Ireland_

**::-::-::-::-::**

Even now, he could feel the touch of her warm hand between his shoulders, soothing him.

She'd always do that – just place her hand on his back ever so softly, letting her presence comfort him. She didn't even have to touch him. Just being in the same room as her alleviated the pressure he felt almost daily, no matter the cause. She was his drug, his addiction.

Perhaps it had always been like that. He didn't know. All he knew was that from the very moment they met, he knew that one day she would be his world. Twenty years later, she had become that very thing. His world. He lived for her, breathed for her. She kept him sane, and in return, he gave her unwavering loyalty.

So why did right now feel like such a betrayal?

His hand burnt with pain, pain that focused him as the pattern imprinted upon his palm. It was the necklace he'd been planning to give her for their anniversary next week. He clung to it now, as if his life depended on it. Her phantom hand stayed on his back, but it gave little comfort now. How could it? If felt like she was a million miles away. She couldn't comfort him anymore, couldn't relieve his fears, his panics.

There was no doubt in his mind that he loved her; why, _why_, hadn't he told her more often? She knew. She always knew. But it wasn't enough. He needed to vocalise the words – so why hadn't he? Was he shy? Was he worried she wouldn't feel the same? No. That wasn't the answer. He was too proud. To proud to admit how he felt, that he was so addicted to one person. So addicted that he'd been willing to spend all of eternity at her side. Pride had gotten in the way of so many things.

He still recalled their first meeting. Pride had gotten in the way there, too. Twenty years, and not a single second of memory had faded. It was imprinted in his mind, like ink on paper. The detail may dim slightly, but it would never disappear, never become unrecognisable. Never lie.

It had been his tenth birthday, and his "present" from his mother had been to send him to a foreign country, a foreign school. Sent away from home on his birthday! Never had he felt so annoyed. And yet there, in the classroom, with a brilliantly bright smile, had sat the girl he would fall in love with.

It was pride that had kept him from becoming friends with her. Get close to the girl he had almost instantly developed a crush on? That would be asking for trouble. So he'd been as cruel to her as a ten year old was capable of. He'd seen the confusion, the hurt on her face. But still, his pride had been too strong. He hadn't relented for nearly a year, when a very real possibility of losing her had come to be. Then, and only then, had he opened himself up to her slightly, letting her in, breaking cracks into his nearly impenetrable armour. She was the one who'd shown him the light, woken him up.

And he'd repaid her in kind, hadn't he? He wondered now. He'd shown devotion, loyalty and love. He'd been with her throughout all the trials that had followed – throughout the death of her father, throughout the relationships that had gone nowhere until she found him. He'd always been there for her, and when she had finally realised it, he had shown her true pleasure, true desire.

Hadn't he?

What if he hadn't? He'd never know now. The one thing he _needed_ to be sure of … and he'd never get the chance to ask. Ever. He wouldn't get to share the rest of his life with her.

He was all too aware of the jewellery box in his pocket, and the ring concealed inside it. He'd been planning to ask her on their anniversary. Finally. Nearly eight years of a relationship and he'd only just gotten the strength to ask her to marry him. It seemed cruel. Again, it had been pride preventing him: he hadn't wanted to ask, for fear of seeming like he wanted her too much, for fear of appearing selfish. Because he would, wouldn't he? He'd be asking her to spend her entire life with him and only him. He was the only one she'd ever really had a relationship with and he'd be asking that she never have a relationship with anyone else. To his foolish pride, that had seemed unbearable.

His hand opened, and the necklace fell. The delicate glass of the pendant smashed as it hit the ground, shattering in a million fragments, shimmering like stars in the deep shadows of the night. A million dreams, dashed, broken, ruined. Never to come to fruition.

The moon peeked out from behind a cloud, like a child wanting to look even though they knew they shouldn't. Just a small sliver of light, enough to illuminate his face, the amber eyes squinting, fighting through the tears threatening to fall. Not tears for him, for his loss – tears for hers. Tears for the woman he loved most. The love of his life.

One last, hushed prayer to the moon – a simple _I love you Sakura_ – then, perhaps only a second later, his body hitting the floor, as broken and damaged as the pendant that was supposed to have symbolised the love he held for her.

**::-::-::-::-::**

Li Syaoran's funeral was held just over a week later.

His grieving girlfriend was not in attendance, having found, that very morning, the ring case in the clothes that had finally been returned to her. Her would-be engagement ring had simply brought on a fresh case of tears and grief, enough for her older brother to send her back to bed and order her not to get up until he returned. Not that many tears made him say that nowadays. The once cheery girl was impossible to console, crying over the smallest things, anything that reminded her of Syaoran.

She cried at the TV, remembering the happy times they'd spend curled up under the warm blanket, watching it late at night. She cried when she missed the phone, and the answering machine kicked in, because it was his voice that greeted the caller, and it was usually him calling to say he would be late home. She cried when seeing the bath, remembering the time he'd let himself in just after her father's death, to find her sat in the cold water, fully clothed, and how he'd gently taken her out, dried her off and just sat with her.

Worst of all was the bedroom. She couldn't even bear to look at the door, let alone go in. All those happy times in bed, those passions and longings and desires that had been sated in that room. All the pictures of the two of them, littering the walls. His unfinished work on the desk, his clothe still thrown haphazardly across the floor and stuffed in the wardrobe. She wouldn't be able to bear seeing so many reminders of him at once.

Her brother had taken her to his home, where there were no reminders other than the oversized T-shirt she kept there to sleep in, the T-shirt she'd stolen from Syaoran one hot summer. The same T-shirt that had led to their first night together.

She daren't touch it now. No more reminders. Not yet. It was still too new, too raw. Maybe one day, when the pain wasn't quite as bad as it was now.

Though she hadn't attended the funeral, when her brother had returned and was on the phone, she did sneak out. His grave was already filled in, his headstone completed and standing proud. It was only thanks to a friend of Syaoran's that it was possible for it to have been completed so quickly, but she thanked them silently now as she knelt in front of it.

Her delicate fingers traced the smooth words etched into the cool stone. _Beloved son, brother and lover._ Too dear to them all, she thought as she felt the prickling behind her eyes that was tears once again. Too big a loss for them to bear. She'd seen his family only once since it had happened, and in their faces she had seen her own grief and anger mirrored.

Two worlds, both shattered in the blink of an eye.

With no chance of reconstruction.

**::-::-::-::-::**

**Once again I come up with something quite sad.  
I have no idea what inspired this, but I was spurred on to finish it by the music I was listening to at the time (Evanescence) which could also account for it being angsty.  
I am working on other stuff, such as Love Polygon and some original things, but writer's block's put them off for now. Again. This has helped me semi-break it. Hope you like :)**

**Tears x **


End file.
